Caught Between Heaven And Hell
by Deidara the Arrancar Alchemist
Summary: Mephisto tricks Blackheart’s half-demon son, Loki, into thinking that the Ghost Rider is responsible for Blackheart’s eternal damnation. Filled with rage and purpose, he hunts down Johnny Blaze, but things don’t go according to plan at all. Movieverse :D
1. Chapter The First

_Hey people! Here's my first proper attempt at a Ghost Rider story, so cut me some slack! Hehe, just kidding, flame me if you want. Your flames will be used to cook my marshmallows. Nice reviewers shall receive these marshmallows. OK, sorry about that odd moment. _

_This idea recently popped into my head, so I thought I ought to post it. It's Movieverse (God, how I love the film!), and by no means do I own anything to do with Ghost Rider, except any OCs. _

_I really hope you enjoy it, but I apologize if it's not very good and all the details are wrong. I kinda made it up on the spot! Let's ride, folks! _

CHAPTER THE FIRST - REVENGE

The sky was a fierce curtain of fire, crimson and gold and vermillion splashed across the sky, the vibrant colours of the sunset intermingling to form a daily splendour of nature. The sun was a molten orb melting the firmament around it into a leaky puddle as it dipped below the horizon swiftly, as if fleeing the shadows of night that were already descending like a black carrion bird's wings. The first stars flickered into life, only to be snuffed out by a darkness deeper than normal twilight, thicker than a lake of pitch. The rolling sands of the desert might as well have been crystals of ice – the air seemed to freeze when an odd chill drew in once the sun was dead. Something wicked was coming; something beyond the realms of mortals.

A shadowy figure peeled from the night. It moved steadily forwards, its steps deliberately slow as they crunched over the brittle grains of sand. It was humanoid in form and masculine, wearing dark clothing and leaning lightly on a sturdy cane. He came to a halt in a seemingly unremarkable spot, waiting. His eyes smouldered with treacherous glee, but then a mask flipped up to show grim remorse on his chiselled ageless features when it sensed another person approach.

Another man came into view as he crested a dune, trudging quickly down the slope, his feet plunging into the sand in his haste. His arrival was no where near as ghostly and elegant as the other older man, who now cocked his head to the side as the younger fellow skidded to a stop in front of him.

The younger man bowed stiffly, panting a little. "My lord, Mephistopheles."

"Loki" answered Mephisto, scrutinizing the young, demonic man, trying to hide the hints of disdain that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

He was almost ashamed to call this sorry excuse for an Underworld child his grandson. Loki was a bastard child of Blackheart and some sinful, wretched woman that was now writhing in the flames of Hell. She gave birth to the little bundle of fear just before the ground opened up and swallowed her. Blackheart wanted nothing more than to dispose of the half-mortal child, forget the newborn burden. But he was responsible for the creation of the child, and had for some reason beyond Mephisto allowed Loki to live in the lesser realms of Hell.

Mephistopheles had never accepted the half-demon into his kingdom, only allowing him to live because he was related in blood to him. One never knew when your demon family could come in handy. But with Blackheart defeated and suffering a fate worse than all the death in the world, Mephisto had no reason to let Loki remain breathing. Except one.

"Why did you summon me here, my lord?" frowned the young demon.

Mephisto bit down the cold smirk that was surfacing. He swallowed and tried to look sincere. "You know of the Ghost Rider, yes?" said the Underworld lord, his voice gravely and low, as ever.

"Yes," replied Loki slowly. "One of your favourites creations, right? A fiery bounty hunter. But, what's this got to do with me? Is he causing you trouble?"

"As a matter of fact, he has recently," Mephisto snarled. "The damn servant betrayed me and has gone rogue, as a 'Spirit of Vengeance' (he spat out the title as if it was poison). But that's not the point, boy. It concerns your father; your rebellious, ambitiously-failing father."

"Blackheart?" murmured Loki. He hadn't seen is father for decades, and their last meeting had been anything but civil. To Loki, 'father' was just a title. It didn't mean anything to him. They were bonded by blood alone, and not love. There was no love in a demon's world. Or was there?

"Ah-huh," said Mephisto, taking a step closer, his cane sinking deeply into the sand with a forceful pierce. "You know that Blackheart went astray, and is attempting to overthrow me and declare himself King of Hell. He's summoned his followers, opposed me for well over 100 years. Did you think he would fail?"

The young man shrugged. He didn't really know what to say.

Mephisto grinned in mock sadness and shook his head. "Ah, my poor son. He was a fool to think he could take me on and win. The Ghost Rider's gone and dealt his judgement, and now Blackheart's locked down in the deepest circle of Hell-"

"No…" whispered Loki, unable to accept the truth.

"And will be held there and tortured until I see that justice is served, which is likely to be never."

"No!" shouted Loki. "Blackheart couldn't be so easily defeated by a mere Ghost Rider! He is far too powerful!"

Mephisto snorted. "Blackheart even managed to claim the Contract of San Venganza and every damned soul with it. But even with a legion of evil spirits, Blackheart was thwarted by a simple Penance Stare."

Loki growled, the sound feral and shaking his vocal cords. "And you're just going to torment Blackheart till the End of Days? Your own son?"

"I'd be lying if I said I was sad that he failed," sighed Mephisto, his fierce eyes glinting malignantly. "He deserves everything he'll receive."

Loki's eyes darkened and became wild, midnight blue turning to inky, fathomless pits of fury. His mouth stretched into a chasm of slender fangs with a long black tongue as a screech escaped his throat and he lunged forwards till he was inches from his grandfather. The demon had no idea why he felt such anger, such sorrow, for a creature he loathed and would never call father. Why was he defending his honour? Love was impossible in a demon's heart, so what was this strange feeling?

"Loki, Loki, Loki," sighed Mephistopheles, lips twisting as he was unaffected by the sign of aggression and retained his calm, dominating demeanour. "It is my duty to punish those who seek to destroy me. It is my nature; I am the Prince of Darkness, and I can do whatever I want with my enemies, even my own son. But you're forgetting something." He leaned in closer, his voice persuasive; a hissing, venomous serpent's tone. Loki tenses as the words slithered into his ear.

"If it wasn't for the Ghost Rider, your father would never have been caught. He would still be creating chaos and trying to kill me."

"But you were the one who set the Ghost Rider on Blackheart in the first place!" Loki protested.

"True. But can you blame me? You would do the same. You would summon your greatest weapon against your nemesis. If you're seeking vengeance, take it out on the Rider, not me. You are half-mortal, Loki, and if you try to harm me, you'll be crushed."

"Piss off!" growled Loki.

"Calm yourself boy. How about, I offer you a deal?" Mephisto shivered inwardly with delight: he loved to gamble.

"A deal?" frowned Loki. He knew of his grandfather's trickery and corruption in deal making, and didn't want to fall into the same trap. But he still hung onto every word.

"If you kill Johnny Blaze, the Ghost Rider, perhaps I shall consider your father's imprisonment. Perhaps, I shall bend the rules, lessen the torture, reduce the time of punishment."

"You would do that?"

"Perhaps" Mephisto smirked.

Loki said nothing, but the answer was clear.

"You have 24 hours," murmured Mephisto. "If you do not succeed, you shall earn you fair share of your father's retribution."

And the demon lord evaporated into curling smoke, carried away by a freezing wind, leaving the young demon alone with the weight of the mission.

_So, how's that for chapter one? Johnny's gonna be in chapter two! Can't wait to write him up! Feedback will be lovely, thanks. :) _


	2. Chapter The Second

_Thank you so very much for anyone who's reviewed, you guys are awesome! Sorry if I haven't replied to any of the reviews, but they were all sent as anonymous so I couldn't. (shrugs)_

_I present to you the second chapter! I'm so excited, I get to write Johnny into character and I've never done it before! I really hope you enjoy it!_

CHAPTER THE SECOND – ENCOUNTER

The inky night was banished by an intense red line on the horizon, a smudge of watery pink-blue steadily devouring the indigo and violet sky. The immense, hulking outlines of the city buildings were like charcoal towers, the skyscrapers glass dull like glazed eyes. The dawn was relatively quiet, the atmosphere subdued yet buzzing with restless vigilance, but an almightily roar that shook the ground shattered the calm.

The tarmac trembled in the damp alleyway, the walls drawing back in fear.

A monstrous shadowy creature outlined in flames as fierce and furious as brimstone's fire came hurtling down the narrow street, a trail of scorching gold fire gashed into the ground in its wake. The snarling beast screeched to a halt, spraying up asphalt, and one could clearly see the terrible yet spine-chillingly enthralling sigh.

A hellish motorcycle with a body like gleaming armour that seemed to melt and writhe in the golden flames that danced around it, its engine a metallic purr; and astride the bike was a rider more frightening than its mount – a man wreathed in a crown of flames upon his bleached-white grinning skull with profoundly empty sockets, a man clad all in black leather and adorned with silver spikes and a chain draped across his broad shoulders and torso. He was the Ghost Rider, the Spirit of Vengeance. Though he'd rather just be Johnny Blaze.

With the heralding dawn, it was time to strip off his skeletal aspect and resume life in the form of a human, because his duties were meant to be carried out under the cover of darkness, fighting creatures of darkness. In the light of the sun, evil slithered back into deep hollows, scuttled under rocks to hide from the day. Only the strongest evil or those with a strong purpose would venture out in daylight hours.

Johnny killed the engine of his bike and swung a slender leg over it, dismounting. As the shadows faded and a ray of light passed over him, his bones changed to flesh. He shuddered and let out a hoarse gasp. He'd changed countless times, often in the blink of an eye, but that didn't mean that it sometimes hurt. He shook his head and rubbed his fierce, cobalt-blue eyes as his fatigue washed over him now that he was in human aspect. He'd had a busy night hunting down some rogue demons that proved trickier to deal with than he expected, and was a challenge even for him. All he wanted to do was to flop onto his bed and sleep till night fell again.

"I really need a break from all this bounty-hunter business" he said to himself, his voice a murmur with a southern drawl to it.

He glanced over to his bike, that had like him shed it's nightly form into a normal - yet nevertheless more fantastic than the average motorcycle - form. He walked over it and took hold of its handlebars, about to push it towards his apartment' lift. But he hesitated as soon as he laid a hand on the vehicle, a sudden chill washing over him. He frowned, his muscles tightening in the tension. Something was watching him.

He turned his head cautiously around, his hand curling into a fist. He paused, and took a shallow breath, before wheeling around swiftly and expecting to see a demon leaping out of the shadows at him.

He frowned when he saw nothing. But the presence was still there. And it felt very close…

He let out a muffled cry as a hand snaked around his neck and clapped against his mouth, another hand grasping his neck with a viper's grip and yanking him down, Johnny's feet scrabbling on the floor. Johnny felt the familiar heat rising up inside is veins trying to escape, but the light of day prevented him from changing. He snarled and using his entire body managed to throw himself and his attacker to one side and into a pool of shadows that the sun hadn't yet consumed; and now the flesh melted from his skin and he heard a strangled exclamation of pain form behind him. His attacker's grip loosened, and the Ghost Rider grabbed his enemy's wrists and twisted them off his back, hurling his opponent into a brick wall that crumbled with the impact.

The Ghost Rider wheeled around to face his opponent and braced himself for another attack, but paused and cocked his head to the side when he saw his attacker struggling to his feet and coughing form the dust that spiralled from the cracked wall. Further observation told the Rider that his attacker obviously wasn't a good fighter at all, and seemed inexperienced and feeble. He took in a young face streaked with inky blood, before the features became contorted with rage and the opponent leapt at the Rider.

But he was expecting the attack and held out a bony-fingered hand, a feral-sounding sigh escaping his jaws when the young demon ran into his hand that snapped shut and choked the assailant. The young demon hissed against the flames of the Rider, really trying hard but not succeeding at all in breaking free. The Ghost Rider slammed the demon against the wall, holding the young man by lapels of his coat and fixing him with his fiery glare.

"What do you want?" the Ghost Rider demanded, his voice gravely as it was filtered through the fire of his mouth.

"To kill you" murmured the demon, eyes growing a little anxious now that he realised that taking on the Rider wasn't such a good idea.

The Ghost Rider was prepared to utilize his Penance Stare, when he stopped in surprise as realisation eventually clarified his suspicions.

The demon he had held against the wall was familiar; very familiar, in fact, because his face was so similar to the one he had in mind, he might have thought they were the same person. The demon was the spitting image Blackheart: ashen, corpse's skin devoid of warmth stretched over a high-cheekboned, haughty visage, with raven-black hair and cold piercing eyes. But there were differences too that marked Blackheart and this demon apart. For example, his hair was longer and messier and fell into his eyes, and his nose was slightly crooked as if it had been broken. The demon's eyes, despite being icy and withdrawn, seemed somewhat warmer than Blackheart's.

The Ghost Rider loosed his grip, and stiffened when a wave of sunlight stole the fire from him and returned his human aspect. His eyes widened and he let go of the demon, taking a few steps back when the young man let out a warning growl from his gritted teeth.

"Who are you?" Johnny asked, taking in more of the demon. The man wore a long leather coat, but the ends were frayed and torn, and this was his only clothing other than the dark jeans he had, that were as tatty as the coat. A dark-blue jagged scar was livid against the icy flesh of the demons' chest, just over where a heart ought to be beating.

"Who I am doesn't matter," said the demon. "All that matters is that I see the life leave your eyes."

Jonny snorted. "Sorry, kid, but back then you were a pretty poor opponent. Are you even fully demon?"

The man scowled, a hint of colour reddening his hollow cheeks. "But you're weaker now, Rider. Look, you're just a human now; a pathetic human against a child of Hell."

Johnny banished the little flicker of fear when he acknowledged what the demon said was right. "True… but I could still probably defeat you. C'mon, just tell me who you are and then we can get back to killing each other."

The demon struggled with himself, before sighing and looking Johnny in the eye. "I'm Blackheart's son."

"Ah-ha! I was right. I could see the resemblance." Johnny gestured to his face. "You kinda have the same features…." He trailed off and coughed at the demon's death glare.

Johnny took another step back and said "Did Mephistopheles send you after me?"

Blackheart's son blinked in surprise but the sighed again harshly, edging closer towards Jonny. "If I kill you within 24 hours, then Mephistopheles will release my father from the deepest circle of Hell, the area reserved for traitors and mutineers. We made a deal."

Jonny shook his head, knowing how terrible it was to make a bargain with Mephisto. The demon, of he aged in human years, only appeared the same age Johnny was when he sold his soul. They shared the same ignorance.

"Hey, wait, Blackheart's not dead?" Jonny asked in shocked fear.

"Of course not," hissed Blackheart's son. "His physical form was broken, and the souls of San Venganza were destroyed. But you didn't kill Blackheart's demon soul; he's far too powerful, even against your Penance Stare. He was imprisoned instead, and will stay locked up forever unless Mephistopheles is given your corpse."

Johnny took another step back, so he was a few feet from his bike. His expression was thoughtful under his calm mask. "You're trying to free your father. I had no idea demons could feel compassion, let alone any human feelings."

"It's complicated…Wait, why am I talking to you?!" His anger momentarily lifted when he glanced at Johnny and then the bike, to be replaced with awareness. "Don't you dare…"

"Too late!" Johnny jumped onto the bike and revved the engine, and with a screech of burnt rubber he had wheeled the bike around and shot off back down the alley, heading out into the city streets. Blackheart's son's infuriated roar echoed down the narrow walls and rung in Johnny's ears.

_So, what did you think of that? Sorry for a lack of commas, but I wanted to make it fast-paced. Was Johnny in character? Feedback is more than welcome, good or bad I really don't care. The next chapter will be up and running sooner or later, depending on feedback from this one. _


	3. Chapter the Third

_Chapter 3 is up! I'm making up a lot of the information, so sorry if a lot of the facts aren't true. Enjoy, all. Oh yeah, and next chapter will feature Roxanne :)_

CHAPTER THE THIRD - RESEARCH

Johnny shut the book again, a frown creasing his brow as he slotted it back between the other volumes on the shelf. He ran a finger along the spines of the books, some cracked and shredded with age, others stiff and unread with glossy new covers. So far, he'd had no luck searching for what would give him the information he sought.

The library was quiet; like a still and sombre church with doors sealed and a ghostly hush draped over the wavering candles. The only sound was Johnny rumaging through the tomes and the flick of paper as he turned the pages, as well as the faint muffled footsteps way further down the regimented lines of soaring, mahogany shelves of the few others who'd come to the library at such an early time. A nearby clock drilled to the wall announced it to be 7 am. Soft milky-yellow light filtered down from the high windows, a flock of dust motes spiralling around on un-felt currents revealed in the rays.

Johnny was in the relativly small Occult section, trying to gather as much information about any mention or refrence to the demon Blackheart. He was also researching half-demon children. Although the young demon he'd encountered hadn't said it, Johnny could tell by his apperance and personality that he had a considerable amount of human blood in his luke-warm veins.

He really wished the Caretaker, Carter Slade, was still here. If he was, Johnny could have driven down to the graveyard and received the answers instantly, instead of ploughing through . Things were a lot tougher without the Caretaker to advise him and guide his actions. He was still pretty new to the whole Ghost Rider business. He really hoped that the Caretaker was at peace, wherever he was. He deserved it, and he had certainly earned it.

Something caught his eye - a book that was a little shabby, but newer than some of the others that shared the shelf. _The Devil's Brood: A Guide To Demonic Offspring_ the title declared.

What a great find! It was almost as if it was written for Johnny for this moment. A quick check at the front told him that it was published about 50 years ago. He wondered if Blackheart had been on the rampage during that time.

He flicked it open and upon reaching the 20th page reached Chapter 3. He paused as he was about to turn over when a photo splashed across one entire page snatched his attention. He stared at it with shrewd eyes and a growing sense of certainty that he was on the right track.

The photo was black and white, the image leached of colour so it looked wintry and bleak. It dated from longer than when the book was published, so the author must have copied it from some old archives. Judging from the picture, probably the police archives, as it was a crime scene. Stretched across the bottom of the photo was police tape warning not to cross any further. Beyond it was a twisted corpse of a woman, her abdomen shredded open so her entrails gushed out all over the concrete of the alleyway she was sprawled in. Johnny grimaced at the grim sight, but being the Ghost Rider meant he'd had to put up with a lot of grizzly scenes.

He read the caption below. _"A snap-shot of the supposed murder of Alison Wright, 1949. To the inexperienced eye, it would appear she was brutally stabbed. Turn overleaf for more information."_

Johnny did so and read the first paragrpah, his frown deepening: _"It is sometimes possible for those of demonic blood to mate with humans, depending on the form of said demon. There is also the possibility that a child can be conceived, though this is quite rare and there is little evidence to point out this theory. As you can see from the picture from the previous page, it is a difficult and messy business nurturing and giving birth to a half-demon child. For a human woman pregnant with a demon's offspring, when the time comes for her to give birth, in most cases the effort will too much of a strain on her and kill her..."_

Johnny had read enough. Besides, it was sort of going off subject. He delved a little further into the book and found a list of characteristics these half-demon children possessed. He ticked off all the qualities of the blend of human and dark angel, and smirked to himself. The demon Loki was definitely half-human. Therefore, he was easy to defeat.

He was also easy to sway. Or so he hoped.

Footsteps from nearby made him jolt in surprise, and he swiveled his head around to see a young man with a tired, slightly bored expression walk up to him. Johnny froze as the man passed him, and he felt a tug of doubt in his gut. Maybe he was just being overly edgy and nervous, but he was receiving a bad vibe of this random stranger.

The man stopped in his tracks, walked back a little and scrutinized Johnny. Johnny shut the book and held it closer to him, an eyebrow slightly raised. Then a shocked grin broke out on the man's face and he exclaimed "Hey, you're Johnny Blaze, right!?"

Johnny sighed in relief after expecting something sinister, but then felt a stab of annoyance. It was great to be admired by fans an all, but it was not a good thing to be interrupted when he was on a mission to hunt down the grandson of his nemesis.

He fabricated what he hoped was a charming smile and replied "Sure am."

The young man's eyes gleamed and his smile broadened. "Wow! That's awesome, man! Of all the places to meet a celebrity - I'm a big fan, and I seen you jump and you were brilliant! Can I please have your autograph?"

Johnny nodded politely and struggled to keep his smile fixed in place. He didn't really have the time for this, but he didn't want to disappoint any fans. "Certainly. Got a piece of paper and pen?"

The young man rambled on a little more about how great Johnny was with many "awesome"s and "cool"s inserted between the sentences as he fumbled for a pen and something to write on, but Johnny was paying attention. He distanced himself from his surroundings and sensed something. The library was a quiet place, but now it was a still and cold as the grave. His eyes flickered to the man, who was eagerly holding out the pen and paper, and with a last observant, suspicious glance lowered his eyes as he scrawled his name on the paper.

"Lucky I bumped into you today" the man went on.

"Ah-huh" mumbled Johnny.

"Very lucky, in fact. You probably don't remember, but you've met me before."

Johnny paused, before finishing the last letter of his name and handing it back to the man. Johnny was unnerved to see an unpleasant glimmer enter his pale blue eyes. "I have?" Johnny said slowly, cautiously.

"Yes, you have." The man's voice was now sly and low, and sounded very different to the eager excited tone he'd had mere seconds ago. "Maybe you'll recognise me once I remove the simple glamour that even your pathetic Ghost Rider powers couldn't pierce."

Johnny sucked in a breath and stepped back. The features slipped off the man's face like sand trickling through your cupped hands, dissolving into the empty air. Pale blond hair was replaced with raven black locks and his skin underneath his mask turned from a warm peachy glow to skin akin to a corpse. His purple-tinged lips curved upwards into a sneering grin. In the split second Johnny was paralysed, Loki roughly shoved him into the bookcase, which collapsed in upon itself and crashed to the ground with a loud thud, books and dust scattered everywhere. Johnny blinked as he was stunned, lying in the shattered remains of the wooden shelves. He hadn't anticipated such a strong attack.

He snapped to attention as Loki advanced and as his adversary aimed a kick he rolled over to avoid it. He staggered to his feet and felt a burning hot wrenching sensation under his skin. It was the Ghost Rider desperately wanting to be unleashed, but under the sun's waxing glare he could not transform. Johnny snorted bitterly: Loki had chosen the perfect opportunity to launch another attack.

Loki snarled and leaped at Johnny, fangs glittering vampire-like. Johnny grabbed his wrists and wrestled him with gritted teeth. The young demon was stronger than he expected, and it was an effort simply keeping him off him. Johnny kicked Loki in the shins and his opponent's grip loosened a little, and he managed to tear out of his grip and duck around another shelf. He felt a scorching current of air scrape his ear and looked up to see a sphere of ugly red-black fire crash into the shelf beyond him, combusting instantly.

_So he has fiery powers too_ Johnny thought. _Dealing with this son of a bitch will be challenging._

But he was the Ghost Rider, and he would fight fire with fire. He grunted in pain as the Ghost Rider within him squirmed and snarled, determined to be set loose. Johnny had to stamp the flames down, even though he really wished he could summon them to his aid.

"Come out and fight me, Blaze!" cried Loki, edging closer like a wolf stalking its prey. Johnny was alarmed at how much he resembled Blackheart.

"Seems you're only tough when you have the upper-hand," Johnny called back. "Only brave enough to fight weak humans."

"Shut up, bone-head!" Loki growled and swung a cold fist out at Johnny. He cried out and squinted as his head snapped back, feeling warm blood ooze from his broken nose. He staggered back and dodged another blow, picking up a heavy book and throwing it at Loki where it dented his forehead. The demon tripped over and fell on his back with an "oofff!" He tried to get back up again, but panted and struggled.

Johnny tried to hide a snigger. He walked over to Loki, towering above him with a half-apologetic, half-mocking smile. "You know, you really suck at trying to kill people. You should find yourself another hobby. Stamp-collecting has always been pretty popular."

Loki scowled and attempted to get up, but Johnny stuck his leg on his scarred chest and pinned him down. "You know, if you want to help your Father, there could be another way. Mephisto isn't the type to keep his promises, and it's likely he's just using you to get to me. He would never release Blackheart anyway."

Loki seethed, but looked downcast when the words settled in.

"I'll give you time to think it through," said Johnny, removing his foot. "And please quit trying to kill me, I don't like it when people do that."

_OK, that's all forthe time being. Please tell me if this sucked. _


	4. Chapter the Fourth

_Avast! A new update! Enjoy folks, and reviews would be very nice, not that I'm begging. :)_

CHAPTER THE FOURTH - ROXANNE AND DEALS

"The police are still baffeled by who or what caused this gruesome homicide, and we'll keep you updated when the forensic results return. Until then, this case remains a mystery. I'm Roxanne Simpson, on scene."

"And cut" Stewart said, the red recording light on the camera winking off.

Roxanne's friendly and reassuring smile slipped and she puffed out a tired sigh, and she ran a hand over her dark hair that was tugged back intoa ponytail. It had been a tough day already, and the sun had risen mere hours ago. But with the newcasters ordering her to go report on two cases by 8am, and considering that she'd hardly slept last night because of her recurring nightmares, she was already exhausted. The make-up artists had had to apply an awful lot of foundation to hide the dark circles under her glazed eyes and the pinched ashen tone to her skin.

Roxanne turned around and came face to face with the crime scene. Beyond the vivd police tape that boasted no entry beyond this point, there lay a relativly quiet street in the outskirts of the city. The calm had been disturbed in the early hours by someone or something, and now the fresh-faced street was marred with four corpses. Roxanne had seen bodies before, and although they were na ugly sight that made her nauseous, this particular crime scene made her stomach churn and squirm.

The lifeless husks lay in the middle of the road within the heart of a shallow crater that had been caused by what appeared to be a bomb. The tarmac had been scooped out and hurled in all directions, blasting the glass out of near by windows. The bodies themselves were twisted and bloodied, as if malwed by some sort of ferocious beast, their remains slightly scorched and ash streaks exploding outwards from the crater like a black charcoal star.

Roxanne shuddered are turned away. She suspected with a chill of dread that no human had been involved in this murder. A few months ago she would have been highly skeptical if someone suggested something otherworldy had commited this brutal act. But after the events of San Venganza, and been thrown into a world where demons and fiery, skeletal bounty-hunters existed, her views had changed.

Then her eyes widened as a familiar face came closer to her, squeezing past the thick crowd of policemen, scientists, reporters and bystanders. Her heart fluttered a little and a smile tugged at her lips as she saw Johnny approaching her, but she suddnely frowned in concern. Why was there blood pumping out of his nose?

"Hey Roxanne" Johnny greeted, his faint smile turning into a grimace. As well as a face covered in crimson, his usaully quite neat hair was ruffled, his leather jacket dusty and even torn a little.

"What happened to you?" asked Roxanne looking him up and done. "Is your nose broken?"

"It's alright, I'm fine" he replied shaking his head slightly.

"Got into trouble with a ... you know what?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"Ah-huh" Johnny said with another pained expression, but this had nothing to do with the wound he'd recieved. Suddenly, his bright blue eyes became anxious and he said to Roxanne "Listen, I want you to be careful. If you ever suspect anyone of being something they're not, then stay awy from them."

"What do you mean, Johnny?" answered Roxanne with confusion as they squeezed out of the crowd.

His eyes flickered from left to right and back and he rubbed the back of his neck. "The demon I got into a scuffle with today," he murmered. "He was, well he was Blackheart's son."

"His son?!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah," said Jonny with a breif nod of the head. "I didn't know either, till he smashed my face in. What I'm trying to say is that being his son, he'll probably have the same sort of ideas as Blackheart, as well as picking up a few tricks from his dear ol' grandpa. So you know what that means?"

"Don't worry, I'm a big girl, I can look after myself," Roxanne smiled, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

"Ow" Johnny winced, and rubbed the spot. "There was a bruise there."

"Sorry, honey" said Roxanne.

"What's going on here, anyway?" questioned Johnny, looking at the hive of fearful activity around him. "I reckon it's something big."

"Four bodies," answered Roxanne grimly. "And to me, they don't look as if they've were killed by humans."

Johnny's eyes widened, then darkened as he scowled. "How come I didn't sense this?"

"The forensics think it happened a few hours ago. You were probaly occupied with fighting off Blackheart's son."

"Hrmmm" was all Jonny said.

"You can go see for yourslef if you want" Roxanne suggested.

"Yeah, I think I will" he said distractedly.

**

Upon a nearby building, Loki sat perched on the precipice, a crow-like ink blot against the cerulean morning sky. He sighed as a cold wind ruffled his hair, bowing his head.

The Rider had hammered home some vital points that he'd foolishly overlooked. There was always the chance that Mephisto had decieved him to help carry out his own wicked plans. But what if he'd genuinly meant it?

_Pft, unlikely! _he thought.

But now he was tangled up in this business, and either way he had to kill the Rider or share his father's fate. He shivered inwardly: the Traitor's Circle was the place both mortal and immortal feared above all of Hell's other God-forsaken pits. Perhaps he would have felt pity for his father, trapped in those darkest of depths, but it didn't quite form in his cold heart. But if not, what was it that fueled him to risk his own life to save a creature that despised him? He didn't know anymore.

But then there was another option. The Rider said there were other methods, other ways, other theories that could release a demon from the Underworld's prison. Why wouldn't there be?

But he had no idea how he was supposed to do this. Maybe if he got help, or asked someone...

His thoughts were shattered by a sudden ear-splitting crack like a whip snapping in the air. Loki leapt to his feet and swivelled around, fists clenched.

"How are things, Loki? Having fun in the mortal world?"

A demon stood a few feet away from him. Dark crimson hair fell in messy braids over his broad shoulders, a long coat tugged westward by the wind. His expression permanantly settled into a smug, sneering leer, a coy, malicious smirk constantly tugging at his lips that when parted revealed rows of stained teeth like a shark. Between a narrow nose sat two watery black pools for eyes, intense with an almost animalistic desire for flesh and blood dancing in the shadowed depths.

Loki's fists unclenched, but only a little. He cocked his head to one side. "Ciardha?"

"Aye," the demon called Ciardha replied, taking a step closer. His hulking form towered over Loki. He grinned, but it was devoid of warmth. "Like what I did down there?" nodding over the edge.

Loki's eyes flickered to the crime scene. "You did that?"

"Aye. Sometimes I get bored. Killing humans has always been great sport, and I would have done away with more if I'd had the time. You and me will have to go hunting for humans one day, Loki. Rip out a few eyes, grind a few bones, eh?"

"Yes" agreed Loki distractedly. He didn't mind killing when he needed to, but he didn't get as much of a kick out of claiming human lives than other demons. His human blood was to thank for that.

"But what are you doing here, Ciardha?" continued Loki. "You're not just here to discuss sport?"

"Nay, as you guessed. I hear you're trying to free Blackheart, for whatever reason that is."

Loki stiffened. "You know about that?"

Ciardha guffawed deeply, and it rattled Loki's bones. "Every demon in Hell knows about it, maybe even Blackheart himself, if he can hear anything between his own screams."

"Seems word get's around fast in the Underworld" Loki scowled.

"Anyway, I'm here to help you?"

"Come again?"

"I'm offering to help you kill the Ghost Rider."

"But why?"

Ciardha frowned, a low growl boiling in his thick throat. "We've fought in the past. We have things to reslove. And I'm extremly tempted to tear his bony head off and squash it between my hands." His fists shook before him, as if he were imagining doing the action there and then. "Besides, you need my help."

Loki paused. He didn't want to fall into another sticky deal. However, maybe this was just what he needed...

"Help me kill him by midnight" said Loki, shoving out a hand.

Ciardha shook it, his grin broadning. "Bring it on."


End file.
